


Levels of Lust

by azaleawrites



Category: Haikyuu!!, Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25682881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azaleawrites/pseuds/azaleawrites
Summary: You are forced to transfer from Nekoma to Karasuno due to a family death. Foul play is suspected. You are separated, fearful, and injured as your life is quickly affected by the incident....You are the protagonist: Takatsu (Y/n)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Sugawara Koushi/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	1. Break

**Author's Note:**

> Starting off short for the first chapter~

Kenma’s P.O.V. -

“It’s tomorrow, right?” I ask as I approach her sitting on the bench outside the school grounds. I wanted to talk to her before she left; side-stepping the run with everyone momentarily was easy. I rarely complete the path anyway. This worked out perfectly, as now there is no need for me to stop by her apartment after practice.

“Yup. So, today was my last day, I guess.” (Y/n) moves her finger along the crease in the bench. As she methodically pushes the tiny pebbles and dirt between the cracks, the gap threatens to encase her full fingertip.

“Oh.” From our previous conversations, I thought she was leaving in the afternoon. Maybe she purposefully alluded to this, wanting people to treat her the same—as much as they could, considering recent events. “Did you tell Kuro?”

“I did. I wasn’t planning on it, but…it seemed unfair.”

“And?” I bite my tongue from asserting it is unfair of her to do the same to me; maybe she meant to do it this evening.

“He…he didn’t seem phased.”

I look at her, her eyes now glossy. Her finger looks agitated from the repetitive motion of rubbing it in the crease of the bench. Regardless of the pain, she would persist until she rubs her finger completed raw. I sit down next to her and grab her hand to wake her.

“He’s bothered.” I try to adjust my tone so that I get my point across not in a dismissive way but in a way that pulls her out of her haziness.

“Well if he is…” She pushes back, leaning against the bench. She throws her head backward and sighs, now playing with her fingers in her lap. “No. it’s not like it’ll change anything.”

I give her a side glance. Tomorrow marks the day that I will be reverting to the days when it was just Kuro and me, when I only had him to confide in. It has been a long while since those days; thinking about it gives me anxiety. I suppose she will only be a text away, though who's to say she will always respond?

It is likely that her moving will affect Kuro more. He’s still kicking himself for missing the funeral.

(Y/n)’s brother, Iachima, passed recently. I will never forget the shakiness in (y/n)’s voice that night when she called me. Kuro was her first call, but he was busy doing extra practice with Yaku and Lev that he hadn’t noticed his phone ringing. On her way to my house, I was able to catch Kuro and drag him home. She didn’t go back to the apartment that night, having slept in my bed while I had on the floor. She reluctantly stayed at the apartment the next night, with permission from Kuro’s mom to accompany her.

Time of death: 17:42. (Y/n) received the call near an hour later. Those at the scene—paramedics and a couple of police officers with radios and clipboards—claim that Iachima’s death was instant. The cause? Slight speeding from Iachima and an inebriated driver behind the wheel of a semi-truck. Simple conclusion, yet the autopsy results tell a different story. Unfortunately, this has caused (y/n) to conjure up other theories for Iachima’s death. She’s even gone as far as to the pair the death with ghoul involvement. Her reasons for caution begin with Iachima’s absences. Starting a few weeks ago, (y/n) heard keys jingling in the dead of night many days. With texts promising that he would be home on time, she always prepped dinner for him; although, he began eating less and less, often looking sick from doing so.

The night prior to the accident, he had burst into the apartment convulsing, gasping for air. As she checked on him, he slowly relaxed, but suddenly alerted her by saying he was leaving town the next day. When she asked for clarification, he just gave some vague answer. His actions proceeded to be more and more suspicious, as he hurriedly poured random items into a bag, along with bottles rummaged from the medicine cabinet. Initially, she was not aware of what he took. It wasn’t until much later that she was given his belongings. The car, after all, was in such damaged condition.

The examiner who conducted the autopsy affirmed her suspicions by questioning the actual injuries sustained. Iachima’s head was messy—to put it lightly—from bits of glass. However, large shards of glass were also found in his body; shards shoved deep enough into his skin that the placing and impact of the semi-truck could not have been responsible for. Moreover, the shards of glass covered other wounds: gauged flesh and deep, plum-colored bruises.

I will admit—something didn’t add up. However, her questions were easy to brush aside. Above everything, it seems like she just wants justification. She refuses to pair Iachima’s death as fault of his own.

Iachima was (y/n)’s idol. He represented everything that she wanted to be when she graduated. Iachima pursued his passions. Taking advantage of an academic scholarship, he attended a college nearby to study art. With a high request for commissions, he was a step above a struggling artist. Maybe it was his popularity, but he never up charged. I wonder if his art will appreciate now that he’s dead. I sigh.

He gave me a piece for my birthday last year. I will not claim that I am a fan of art, but it was a nice gesture. It was of a fluffy black cat in that stance that kittens do when they are ready to playfully pounce or akin to when they stretch out their paws with their butt in the air. Red and golden clouds muted the background. The most noticeable aspect of the painting were the harsh red and yellow eyes.

_“What do you think, Kenma?” Iachima gestured. He had his arms crossed with his thumb on his chin. He seemed anxious—I couldn’t tell if it were from excitement or_ _concern that I’d like his work._

_“I like it. Thanks, Iachima.” I brushed my fingers over the eyes. I could feel the indents from the pen. Everything was outlined first in pen, then overlapped with watercolor. Yet, it was obvious that after he finished painting that he went back over those eyes._

_Smiling at my response, he slapped my chest lightly with the back of his hand. He pointed at my clothes._

_“Tu es un chat!” He said excitedly._

_I looked at (y/n). He knows I don’t comprehend language well; I would assume that the same concept applies to other languages as well._

_“He’s calling you a cat,” (y/n) explained. Amidst the obvious admiration for Iachima’s work, she looked a bit sad when she had to explain. But the sadness seemed more like a worry that I may have become irritated—not so much that I was ignorant towards French._

_“Oh.” I gave Iachima a small smile._

_He ruffled my hair. With his height, he barely had to bend his arm._

_“I’ll be gone for a bit to visit our mother, so keep (y/n)-chan busy. She’s too dependent on me,” He laughed, smiling at (y/n). He then pointed at Kuro and said, “That goes for you, too, Kuro-kun.”_

_“Always.” Kuro replied, knowing that Iachima was just playing the brother role._

In the end, I spent more time with her. Kuro started distancing himself from (y/n) once he felt the crush of time that comes with reaching the end of high school. With his high expectations for nationals, he has increased his practice. It was not his obsession she minded; she often attended practice, either watching from the sidelines or studying. What irked her was his lack of attention to her outside of volleyball. He got comfortable and just expected her to be there, waiting. His grades started to fall as well, so much of the time they spent together was her tutoring him. To give him credit, he did change his step when Iachima passed. He took a whole week off from volleyball and spent it with her, trying to save her from the lull of an empty home.

It wasn’t until he missed Iachima’s funeral that (y/n) broke up with him. His excuse is laughable, as it was only a practice game. I think he caught on when he noticed I wasn’t present at the game. Kuro did his best to not bring the fact up or provide any other excuse. He apologized endlessly, but missing Iachima’s final above-ground presence shattered her.  
So, I was left to pick up the pieces. The only people who attended were Iachima’s dad, her uncle and aunt, with some miscellaneous college peers. Iachima’s dad was a disgusting person, so (y/n) only exchanged niceties with him. Her uncle and aunt stayed for the eulogy and left after; they were distant family visiting from the U.S. Her mom, Natsumi, was absent. When the collage of faces dissipated, only her and I remained. I don’t remember how long she sobbed into my shoulder. All I remember is feeling disappointed that Kuro did not show and shocked at the sensation of feeling (y/n) cry. I have never felt someone’s tremors through my chest like that.

“Text me when you get to Sendai.” I stand up.

“I will.” (Y/n) agreed.

“Also, I’ll let Shouyou know you’re coming. He’ll get you acquainted with everybody easily.”

“Ah, I forgot about chibi-chan. I guess I don’t remember much from that practice game with…uh…”

“Karasuno.”

“Ah.” She blushes, grabbing her head. “Guess I should’ve remembered that.”

“If you don’t like it, come back here for college.”

“That’s the plan, so far. It’d be nice if it doesn’t suck, though.”


	2. Deterrence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go again, take 2 ~  
> we'll get smut next chapter, don't worry~

Kenma’s P.O.V. -

Volleyballs litter the ground; miss your step, and you’ll slip. The far-right side of the court carries the majority, with just a few having bounced back past the net that now rest near the basket. Kuro stands on that side of the gym, practicing jump serves. The gym is all his.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, stepping in with my neck tilted out in the doorway.

“Check the time.” He says blandly.

“Practice normally runs to 7.”

“Oi, and it’s 6:30. Everyone is still doing laps outside.” The duration of the run, plus my absence, distracted me from the time.

“Why aren’t you with them?” I probe, knowing the answer. Taking the time to throw up the ball and complete the serve, he doesn’t answer until the ball surpasses the net.

“I wanted to be alone.” His eyes linger on the volleyball as its speed decreases from muted tapping to a slow roll.

“You missed (y/n).”

“So I did.”

I position myself a few feet to his left and toss him a ball. A sweet, perfect rotation of the volleyball between his fingers, he continues the process of the serve. _Smack_.

“Another.” _Smack_. The ball dashes across the court, landing just on the line, its power causing a loud, distant hit. He continues to call for more balls, each time his voice raising in both sound and intensity; and as he continues, his words become stronger than his stamina. The next ball barely skips over the net and circles down the strings. One sad peck on the ground.

He pauses, his breath heavy, and his shoulders stretched wide. He pours the remainder of his effort into one last serve. It hits the back wall of the gymnasium first before it ricochets back to him. I stare at the ball, not so much in awe at his skill but at the pressure he is exerting. Returning my gaze to him, I witness tears streaming down his face, forming larger droplets at his chin. Through his clenched fists, I can see how blistered red the underside of his palm is.

“Kuro,” I say softly.

I look down at the volleyball in my hands and rub my thumbs across the stitches. Here, right now, the most I can offer Kuro is my presence. What can he say, anyway? I already know what is going through his head.

This time, I push the ball at him, aiming at his chest. This can’t continue longer than today. He has put in so much effort to get where he is now.

Kuro receives the ball with his hands and crushes it as much as he could, centering all pressure from his fingers. It is difficult to blow out the air of a volleyball when neither point of contact is as solid as a gym floor. Regardless, he continues to push until his fingers lose grip and the ball is just soft in his hands. His tears making contact with the ball, they stream down the sides. I wait a moment more, anxiously waiting for him to cough out a laugh—but he remains silent, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Oi, where were you guys?” Lev shouts, running into the gym with Yaku.

Yaku’s loud voice immediately followed Lev’s.

“Why weren’t you running laps with us?!”

Yaku’s eyes meet mine, then move to Kuro. As it’s obvious that Kuro is upset, he initially opens his mouth a few times like he is trying to determine how to best approach the situation. Yaku looks at me again, awaiting an explanation. I divert my eyes.

“Why are you crying, Kuroo?” Lev asks, his tone humorous.

Yaku assesses situations better than Lev, and I believe that if it were Yaku speaking, Yaku wouldn’t ask that question. But, Lev isn’t the brightest. I turn my head to Kuro as well, curious of his response.

“It’s nothing.” His voice is the same deep it always is, no hint of cracking.

“Okay,” Lev says, oblivious enough to believe him immediately. He left to

“It’s not about that girl, right?” Yaku asks harshly.

Kuro chuckles. His knuckles whiten, and the ball loses a little more air. His chin still low, he looks down at Yaku.

“What...?”

“Huh?” Yaku put his hand on his hip. Lev looks back.

“Don’t talk about (Y/n)-chan like she was only here for a second. She’s not ‘that girl.’ You know her.”

“Okay, okay. Takatsu.” Yaku drew out (y/n)’s name. “So what? One less distraction.”

“’One less dis’—” Kuro starts to raise his voice. He shakes his head. “It’s useless to explain to someone like you.”

“What did you say?!” Yaku steps closer to Kuro. “Whether you’ll admit it or not, that’s what she is. We don’t need anything getting in our way.” Yaku asserts.

“Are you saying she was holding us back?!” Kuro pushes the volleyball into Yaku’s chest, knocking him near to the ground.

Yaku throws the volleyball to his side. “So, what if I am?”

“Yaku—” I attempt to interject.

Kuro’s chest starts heaving, his back dipping with each breath. He grabs Yaku’s collar and pulls him up to his face.

“We’ll make it to nationals! Whether she’s mine or not, we’ll make it!” He jerks Yakul even closer, “That’s a promise from your captain. But Yaku, if you talk about her like that again—"

“What? You can’t just--” Yaku, despite his own strength, squirms in Kuro’s grip. Yaku sighs and adjusts his tone. “I’m just trying to look out for you, can’t you see that?”

Kuro’s eyes stay fiery. He seemingly understands, as he drops--or rather, pushes--Yaku back onto his feet, yet he leaves without another word.

It’s not that Yaku did anything wrong, or said what he did without purpose. In the end, he was just trying to make Kuro face the facts: (Y/n) is gone, he is here, and the team’s goals remain the same.

Yaku’s concern for Kuro’s performance is valid; we all knew that he worked even harder when she was around--and she attended every game.

(Y/n) always said that Kuro helped her find a piece of herself, content living vicariously through him. Watching him play caused her unblinking eyes to grow exponentially, and a smile stayed the whole time. Her presence gave him extra inspiration. He wanted to continue improving—not just for himself or the team. He wanted to see her biggest smile, and now that’s gone.

***

Kuroo's P.O.V. -

The fading daylight is golden as we head home, with the skyline pulling on the sun. Kenma walks beside me, his attention focused on his game.

“We’re cohesive,” I mumble, annoyed. “Tch.”

What’s Yaku’s problem? Why provoke me? None of this is his to worry. I’ll stay strong, and I’ll keep the team strong. I’ll make sure that happens. I mean sure, it’s possible my performance will change, but the thought that Yaku thinks my skill will decline irritates me. But I suppose any other approach may not be as effective.

“Kenma,” I keep my gaze forward. “What do you think’s going to happen now?”

“What?”

“Well…” I guess I don’t know exactly where I was going with that. “At some point, I will see her again. No question. But when that happens, I wonder if it’ll even matter by then.”

“Matter?”

“Well, I should try and make sure I get over her, right?” I look at him, hoping for any other answer than “yes.” I like to think that she will still matter to me in the future. Of course, my immediate thought is that she always will; that’s how love works. Though, I wonder what it would feel like to be unattached to her. Terrible? Exciting? Depressing? Free? No...

“Getting over her...it’s your decision. She’s not going anywhere, and she may be at games.” He stops and looks at me. “But, you know it won’t be immediate, right?”

“I guess. I may talk with coach, see if I can convince him to do another practice match with Karasuno.”

“Do you think that’d help you move on?” He says with an edge in his voice.

“I don’t know. But I want to see what happens.” I lean down at him and smile. “But, if we play Karasuno, that’ll give you a chance to see chibi-chan…”

Kenma responds with a blush that he hurriedly hides by looking away. Once he maintains his face to a calm, unresponsive facade, he resumes his game. The rest of the walk home was silent, with our minds having drifted from what is current and what may happen.

***

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

I slap my pen onto my notebook, already frustrated from the complexity of the assignment. I look at my bedroom door to make sure no one else is awake; it’s silent, and the lights are off. I get up and throw back the window’s curtain; there’s nothing. I open it. The night sky cloudy and the air warm, there is zero wind. I can rule out the weather as the cause.. Maybe it was a squirrel? I lean past the window sill to find a note taped just on the outside near the bottom corner. I grab it before closing the window and curtains.

> _Kuroo~_   
>  _I’m sorry for everything, but I think things will be better for you soon.  
> _ _Now that you’re free, I’ll tell you how I feel about you tomorrow, and maybe I_ _can help you forget. <3_   
>  _Sweet dreams <3_   
>  _~Aiko_

…now that I’m ‘free’?

Flicking the note to the floor, it floats down to be caught by the foot of my desk. Who wrote that? I’m free? Free for what? Are they referring to (Y/n)-chan? I flop onto my bed, the springs squeaking.

I don’t want to be free of her. Feelings like the ones I had for her…they don’t just go away. Even if it was a poor relationship, feelings stick around. If she were the one who broke my heart, it would still take a while for me to get over it. To think, the audacity someone must have to express their feelings to me right as soon as things end with (Y/n)-chan. I look down to see my phone buzzing—Kenma.

“Kenma? Why are you calling?” I ask. I can’t remember the last time he called me instead texted--if ever.

“I need to talk to you.” He says, his voice hushed.

“Can it wait? I still need to figure out my assignment.”

“No, Kuro. It can’t.”

“Agh, ok—what’s up?”

“I got a note.”

“Ok?”

“It looks like a…warning note.” He sounds more confused than concerned.

“What do you mean?” I sit up and wipe my eyes.

“The words aren't threatening; just something about how things are going to change, and ‘we’ should be prepared.”

“We?”

“Yeah, not sure who ‘we’ is s’posed to be. And there's blood on the paper.”

“Why blood?” I question. Who would want to threaten Kenma anyway? It’s not like he goes out of his way to cause trouble.

“Like I’d know--”

“Ok, Kenma, it’s too late to hear this kind of stuff. You’re freaking me out.”

“Kuro! I don’t know what to do with this.”

“Just…throw it away. We can talk about it tomorrow.” I pause, then add, “I got a note, too.”

“You did?”

“A love-y note or whatever. It was signed by someone named Aiko.”

“Momo Aiko?”

“Maybe?”

“There’s an Aiko in my class.”

“She said she’s going to try and talk to me tomorrow. Kenma—” I start, rolling my eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Try and stop her, ok?”

“Stop her how?”

“This note isn’t cute at all. It pissed me off, and I don’t want to take it out on her.”

“I—what do you want me to do?”

“I guess just try and talk to her.”

“What, talk to her all day? No.”

“C’mon, Kenma.”

“No. Tell her to back off yourself.”

“No. Kenma! Kenmaaaaa—”

My phone alerts me that he ended the call, and I drop it on the floor near the note. I can’t focus on either of those right now. I cover my face with my hands, wondering why this aggravates me as much as it does. (Y/n)-chan is just a person, just an ex now, and as of tomorrow, will no longer be here. Why am I letting this note bother me so badly? It’s stupid and it’s ill-timed. But…maybe this is a path to forgetting.

***

“Hi!!!”

I turn around to see a short girl running up to me, barely over 140cm, with white, wavy hair trailing behind her. She’s wearing lipstick that’s just a shade lighter than the rouge that (Y/n)-chan wears, and she has what looks to be a birthmark or scar near her ear that is poorly covered by powder. Her school uniform looks to be a little big; her skirt reaches all the way over her knees. I suppose it may just be that big on her because she’s so small.

“Hmm?” I look at her, confused.

“You’re Tetsurō Kuroo.” She rushes, near out of breath.

“That’s my name.”

“I’m Momo Aiko.”

“Oh…Aiko.” Surprised by how pretty Aiko is, I bite my words, refusing to let it show. I tighten my textbooks to my chest with my left arm. “I have something that I need to do--right now. So, I’ll see you...later.”

With hands cold as snow, she grabs me by my arm, marking my arms with her long, red stiletto nails.

“Did you get my note?” She chimes, smiling widely.

“Note? No, I don’t think so.” God, I think. She’s like a little school girl.

“How’d you know my name then?”

“Yes, well, Kenma—”

“Kenma wouldn’t talk about me.” She interrupts. “Will you have lunch with me, Tetsurō-senpai?”

I stare at her, unsure of how to respond. She looks so innocent and happy; why does she look so happy when I’m being cold to her? Is she daft? I suppose I’ll humor her for a moment.

“Sure. Let’s…have...lunch.” I say distracted, noticing Kenma standing at the end of the hallway.

“Oi! Kenma! Come here!”I try my best to rope Kenma in, but Aiko is already pulling my arm in the other direction. With a brief look at her, Kenma’s disappeared. I let out a heavy sigh.

“So, what did you bring for lunch?” She asks.

“Fish and rice—”

“I love fish!” She interjects immediately after I finish.

“Ok…What did you bring?”

“Oh, I didn’t bring anything. I don’t eat lunch.”

“Why?”

“I’m just never hungry.” She replies. I wonder, is that why she’s so small? Is she stunting her growth? I’m always starving by lunch time.

“What do you do during lunch, then?” I inquire.

“I sit by myself in the courtyard. That’s why I want some company.” Her voice is softer now, her bubbly-ness having dissipated.

“Oh.” I say, and then suddenly, I can’t help but feel bad for her. Maybe she’s doing this on purpose—to trick me into giving her attention. However, her whole demeanor seems to have changed, and with those so-happy eyes no drooping, it’s hard to be cold.

“I’ll make sure you’re not alone today.”

“Just today…?” She pushes.

“We’ll see. Don’t bore me now, ok?”

“Oh! I promise, you’ll never be bored with me, senpai--” She breaks off her reply with a light laugh, hugging my arm.

“Uh…” I stop talking, thinking about why she’s being so touchy-feely with me. She is not hugging me tightly, so maybe this isn’t inappropriate. She has also lightened her grasp from before when she pulled me, as her nails aren’t actively pinching me anymore.

I can still feel those bites. It doesn’t feel bad; just a bit uncomfortable. I’ve dealt with a lot more pain from (Y/n)-chan, anyway. Though, that was a good pain; it was the kind of pain that reminded me that in that moment, only her and I existed. It was nothing like this faint, near-needy pain from Aiko. My pace slows and my eyes close as my mind starts to drift back to nights spent with (Y/n)-chan. I would rather be with her right now than Aiko; but, Aiko’s here and (Y/n)-chan’s not. She won’t be in these halls with me again, nor in class, nor walking home with me every day. She’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do about that.


	3. Wind under the Rug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's getting easier. Enjoy~

Your P.O.V. -

The door to my mother’s house is bright blue. She coats it with a new layer of paint every year, thinking it’ll look as nice as it did when she bought it. The result? A door resembling clay instead of wood.

The whole house is like that. Every piece of wooden furniture is either painted solid or has an unflattering pattern. She has fake flowers in expensive vases, paper thin carpet glued to the floor, and a mirror on every other wall. The guest bathroom has one small mirror, large enough just for a face. She struggles with her weight, and she has gradually begun to lose her hair. The residue of the previous mirror’s edges remains, which she has deemed a perfect excuse to make the mirror “pop” by lining it with flower petals. A tall cabinet stands to the right, hunkered in between the wall and the toilet. The bottom holds the house’s cleaning supplies, and the top is where she keeps the medicine. The ones open to her guests laid in front of her own cluster of meds. She keeps hers in a yellow box. She was forced to input a lock, but a couple years ago she lost it and now she closes it with a bobby pin. I don’t think she understands the uselessness of a bobby pin, but she feels better with it there.

Like my brother, her life is centered around art. She writes poems and paints. Her poems are a jumble of words; they don’t make any sense. She tries so hard to craft haikus that they are as confusing as comparing a duck to spider, they swim and drown, and she'll name them saviors. Her paintings are just as messy but at least with paintings, she can excuse herself and call them “abstract.”

The key she gave me a few years back rests in my pocket, but I doubt she remembers she ever gave it to me. Who knows? She may have already changed the lock again. I knock.

My mother’s long blue fingernails bite the door as she cracks it open, one eye anxiously peeking out. She gives me an elevator look, scrunching her nose at my dirty shoes and giving an almost...satisfying look at my outfit, as though it somewhat fits her standards. Standards that someone like her has no reason to place. Aside from her gaudy nails, she’s covered in layers of different types of fabric with contrasting colors. Her neckline goes half-way down her chest, not exposing any part of her breasts--they’re small, anyway--but just narrow enough of a slit to show some skin. It’s like she goes out of her way to pop out amongst other people. Sometimes I think it’s because she wants to avoid people from approaching her. It takes her a second before she recognizes me.

“(Y/n)!” She exclaims.

“Hi, mom.” I try to keep my tone pleasantly light; it would be awful if I upset her already.

“You’re so...you’re so tall now!” She laughs loudly, exposing her ridiculously white teeth and drags me inside.

“Really?”

“Well, you’re taller than me! You were barely 130cm last time I saw you!”

“You saw me last year...”

“Mayumi!!” She hollers. A fluffy, silver maine coon slinks from the living room.

“When did you get her?”

“I’ve had her.”

This _woman_.

“Since when? I don’t remember her.”

“Since always.”

“Okay.” I accept her lie. “Will you show me to my room, please?”

Previously the guest room, my room is much more my speed with just two walls painted, violet and yellow. I had asked her to take everything out so I could keep my own furniture. She almost accomplished this. Leaning against the wall are pictures of my brother and I, some with her; none have mine nor Iachima’s dad.

“I thought you might want these,” she says.

“Don’t you?”

It is a simple question, a small gesture showing that I recognize his death hurts her, too, but her lack of response unsettles me. All she gives me is a quiet tilt of her lips that pulls down her whole face. Her whole demeanor changes, and I’m worried she’s about to experience one of her episodes. Her eyes zoom inwards, dragging her gaze from me, to the pictures, to the floorboards. She frantically pulls off one of her cardigans and throws it on the ground, scuttling her foot like she is trying to clean something. I miss the color of the substance, but the resistance between the floor and the cardigan alludes to its presence. I’m not sure what it is, but either she isn’t doing a good job getting it up or it’s a hopeless stain. Already, s

“Hold on for me one moment, dear. Go ahead and grab your bags from outside; I didn’t give you a chance to get them.” She says, looking up at me with her forehead wrinkles.

Rather than giving her a suspicious look, I just nod and keep my eyes in front of me. I cannot believe I’ve already picked at the scab that is our relationship. I sigh, wondering how long this version of my mother will last this time.

Whatever it may be, I won’t fade this time. I won’t care. She’s just some crazy woman, hyperaware of every detail and shadow.  
***  
The sky outside lets me know that it is near bedtime. Everything is unpacked. I showered. I put new sheets on a new bed. I brought very little, with the idea that less is better—less will help me overcome the memories. I’m exhausted—I can’t stay awake much longer or else I will be useless tomorrow. I wish it would come faster, but my mind’s still running.

Focus on the bad things, focus on the bad things...what about his superiority complex? -- No, it wasn’t really a complex. He was just…amazing at many things and knew his worth. He still treated me equally, if not higher.

Hmm…what about his obsessions? -- Volleyball? That’s not a bad thing.

Well…it is what prevented him from seeing Iachima…no, that’s not okay. I cannot pin that on him forever… Picturing what it would be like, to have him hug me from behind, his long physique causing his arms to dangle past my chest, still leaves me in a trance. I touch my neck, remembering what the warmth of his breath felt like on my cool skin when he laughed in my ear. It’d tickle, but his strong arms never failed to suppress my attempts to escape. I’d always end up just collapsing in his chest. At that point, he’d squeeze me in a tight hug or lift me. Being up there in the air with him was a different feeling.

No—no, focus on the bad things. I need to force myself out of that head space. Think about Iachima. Think about how close Kuroo got to Iachima, just to forget him.

Forget him…

Maybe it was a mistake to end things. Honestly, what is my angle? He encouraged me to stop pushing people away, and now, as soon as things become unsteady with him, I do that. I push him away, and now all I’m left with is my psychotic mother and her new cat. Them and Kenma; but Kenma is so far away, and there was no opportunity to stay. Here, right now, my life is in the hands of my mother. Me and her. That’s all I have. Her, Mayumi, and Kenma.

“Fuck,” I exhale. I squeeze my eyes, wishing for sleep.

* * *

  
Whoosh. _The warm breeze plays with the leaves on the tree next to us. It tickles my ear._

_“Kuro-chan, what are you thinking about?”_

_“Hmm?” He rolls over onto his side, smoothing the grass below him. “Nothing. Just feels nice to be outside.”_

_“Ah.”_

_“What about you?”_

_“I’m feeling…happy.”_

_“Simple, simple, (Y/n)-chan.” With a smooth tone, his words roll off his tongue._

_“What?” I laugh. “The sun feels great on my cheeks, makes me feel like I’m smiling even when I’m not. Only hear the wind…though you do like to interrupt it.”_

_“Hey, hey—I was quiet until you said something.” He fans my hair out to free my face._

_“Mhm.” I roll over to face him, looking deep into his hazel eyes, now lightened by the sun. “Say, Kuro-chan—”_

_“Yes?”_

_“I…I’m trying not to get anxious, but I’m a little worried.” I slowly push the words out of my mouth, unsure of how to phrase the full issue._

_“About Iachima?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“I’m sure it’s nothing.” He responds, though his eyes say something different. He probably just wants to keep my heart at ease._

_“Yeah, but, what if it’s not?”_

_“Well, whatever happens….” He sighs. “I’m not sure what to do. Have you talked to him about it?”_

_“I’ve tried, but truth be told, if I asked him what I think is happening is, in fact, actually happening, I don’t think that he’d be honest.”_

_“Have you asked him anything?”_

_“I asked him why he’s coming home erratically. Why he’s not eating. Why, when he’s home, he just watches the news now.”_

_“His response?”_

_“He likes to say he was out with friends at a gallery or a party and he ate there. By the time he gets home, he’s burnt out and wants to catch up on current events. It’s an easy response. A cop-out.”_

_“Yeah. It doesn’t help the news is sketchy lately.” He moves his gaze from me to the grass, picking the tops of the grass._

_“You’ve noticed it, too?”_

_“It seems like they’re writing around the true story but not actually saying anything. They’d rather some people get hurt than cause panic.’” He closes his eyes._

_“What would a ghoul want with Iachima, though?” I ask._

_“Food? What else?”_

_“Wouldn’t he have been dead by now?”_

_“You’re right. I guess we can rule that out, then.”_

_“You think so?”_

_“It’s like you said—a ghoul would’ve eaten him by now.”_

_“Or maybe…”_

_“What?”_

_“Maybe Iachima is one.”_

_Kuro sits up. “That’s crazy. There’s no way. He doesn’t fit any of the requirements.” He pokes. “Besides, that’d mean you’re one.”_

_“What? No, I’m not!” I shove him._

_“Should I be scared…?” He teases._

_“Fuck. Nothing matches.” I sigh, frustrated. “I—whatever. I should stop thinking so much. Iachima acting out of the ordinary will just be temporary. I’m sure he’ll resume his normal life soon.”_

* * *

  
_“Umf…” I groan as my alarm clock rings. I open my eyes to see Kuro reaching with his long arms to swipe the alarm off my phone._

_“You deserve to sleep in, we had a long night,” he says, brushing my hair to the side of my face. My head rests in the curve of his neck. I nuzzle into it a little more, feeling his heat of his neck on my_  
_cheek. I open my relaxed hand and run it across his chest._

_“I don’t want you to leave,” I tell him, knowing he had practice this morning._

_“Well…I missed practice already.” He laughs nervously, his tone more humorous than regretful. “I needed to have left a while ago. I texted Kenma to let coach know.”_

_“Won’t you get in trouble?”_

_“I’ll be fine, (Y/n)-chan. Coach trusts me. Besides, you’re so cute on my chest that I couldn’t bear to move you.”_

_“Okay.” I blush._

_“How are you feeling?” He asks._

_I groan again and lay my head flat on his chest. “Comfy, sleepy.” I pause and add, “Satisfied."_

_He laughs and cranes his neck to kiss the top of my head._

_“Good. And everything…you were okay with everything we did, right?”_

_“Definitely.” I run my fingers from the top of his chest to the top of his underwear, teasing the elastic. His body is wide, with his thighs thick, but his stomach is flat enough that his hip bones_  
_protrude, leaving a small enough gap to where I don’t need to exert much effort to get in his underwear. I rub my fingers under his underwear, barely skimming the head of his dick. I stop fidgeting_  
_with the elastic and retrieve my hand, as the top of my finger is slightly wet now. I draw my hand flat on his chest once more and slide my bare thigh onto his._

_“Oho-ho, are you wanting more, (Y/n)-chan?” Kuroo says slowly, looking down at me. Touching my chin, he guides my head so I’m just a couple inches away from his face. His breath is still warm_  
_and slightly sweet. His lips look so soft… He stops, as though waiting for my response. I meet his eyes with an innocent look that alludes to temptation._

_“Say no more.” He grabs my face with one hand and pulls me into a kiss. Starting slow, he gives me soft kisses, adjusting pressure so that he continuously kisses me harder. Then, keeping his_  
_forehead against mine, he leaves my lips. My impatience gets the better of me, and I push my hips up into his. He gives a low, near menacing chuckle and bites my bottom lip—hard. I whine in_  
_surprise and pain._

_“I want to try something with you…” he whispers in my ear before nibbling it. He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. He slides his right hand down the side of my body and lightly places_  
_his other hand on the space above my collarbone, his thumb pressed on my neck._

_“Be a good girl—keep those hands up there for me…” He says._

_“Uhm, y-yes.” I tighten my grasp on my hands._

_“Good. Now, keep in mind—”_

_“Yes?”_

_“If you move them, you’ll be punished.”_

_“Pun...punished?”_

_He ignores me, moving to bite and suck my ear._

_“What do you want me to do to you, (Y/n)-chan?” He whispers. “Do you want me to kiss you here…” he continues to kiss my neck. “Here?” He moves down to my chest, leaving small, quick bites. “Or_  
_here…?” He drags his tongue over my underwear, completely rubbing my clit. As I shiver from the brief stimulation, he looks up with a devilish grin and pushes himself back up my body. Hooking_  
_his thumbs into the sides of my underwear, he whispers into my mouth: “I think we’ve found the answer…” He pulls them down, his tongue immediately brushing the hood. I push my hips up_  
_involuntarily, biting my lip to try and suppress my excitement._

_“Kuro-chan—” I moan._

_Kuro stops. He proceeds to trail the tip of his tongue all the way up my chest until he meets my eyes._

_“What was that?” He flirts. I gulp, trying to steady my breathing. I look at him in shock. “Do you like it when I do that?”_

_When I don’t respond, he reminds me that I’m to stay with my hands above my head. He squeezes my hips incredibly tight as he gives the warning, trailing his tongue down once more. He leaves_  
_love bites as he goes down._

_This time, he continues past the point that I start shaking, leaving me writhing in the fake restraints he demanded I keep. His slow, light brushes with his tongue is mixed with strong strokes, until I_  
_completely cum. And in the process of me trying to maintain steady breaths and failing, he laughs._

_“You’re so cute.” He laughs. He gives me little kisses on my thigh, holding it so that it is right against his face. “But…I want you to be a puddle for me—”_

_“Wh—” I bite my tongue as he begins to suck my clit. Though this caused a slight burning, near white-hot pain, it felt incredible. Painfully incredible. Not thirty seconds in, the pain subsided, and the_  
_pleasure kicked back in; suddenly, I wanted him to stay down there. At points, it still felt painful, but I craved that hot pain. I craved it and when he stopped, I pouted._

_“Kuro—”_

_“Yes, my love?”_

_I sigh and pull his head into my neck to whisper in his ear._

_“Come here.” Grabbing his broad shoulders, I turn him on his back and move to bite him myself._

_“(Y/n)-chan, I told you to stay put—” He growls, grabbing my hands._

_“Oh, c’mon Kuro-chan…you don’t want me to please you myself?” His grip loosens, and I slide my body down, focusing on hitting his dick with my clit. I remove his underwear and run my tongue_  
_from the base of his dick all the way to the top; my tongue pressing hard underneath the hood as I wrap my whole mouth around the head. This time, I get to feel him buckle underneath me._

_“You can move to please me as much as you want, but…” he says, his voice deep, while he gives me a warning look. “I’m in control. Understand?”_

_I lift my head up so that just my lips are pressed against his head and tilt my head to the side ever so slightly. I stare him straight in the eyes and drop my tongue down his dick again with one long,_  
_sloppy stroke._

_To this, he pulls me closer by wrapping his legs around me and pushing me up with his calves up against my ass. He grabs me at my bust line, picks me up, and forcefully twists me underneath_  
_him--all of this in mere seconds, until I am underneath him and at his mercy. He stretches me, hitting my shoulders with my ankles and tangling my hair with my feet._

_“Fuck, you’re flexible, (Y/n)-chan—”_

_There is no issue, no friction halting his entrance. He’d caused me to come and then left me on the hook; I am embarrassingly wet for him. And the worst thing is--he knows this. He knows that I_  
_can’t grip him hard enough to keep him inside. He has to force it himself. I let out a louder gasp that I had previously. When he was sucking on my clit, I was gasping--but with such deep thrusts, I_  
_can’t stop my self._

_“Am I going too hard for you?” Though his words were mocking, there was some hint of concern. We discussed consensual non-consensual last night, and though this is lightly rough, he wants to_  
_make sure I’m okay._

_“Yes, yes. I mean--no, not too hard. It feels…” I try to find the right words, but he cuts me off by pushing it inside me once more._

_“I have a lot more fun I’d like to share with you…but you’ll need to be quieter for me, okay? I don’t want your brother walking in on us.”_

_“Ok. If I’m quieter, can I...can I have some control?”_

_“...limited.” With a dangerous look like that of his previous warnings, he agrees._

_I fall to my side, and he lays down next to me. I start kissing him, thinking of what I should do. I get on my knees and reach over enough that his chest feels my nipples before the light, wide-spread_  
_cushion of my breasts. Sucking on his thick skin, I give him love-bites to start._

_“Only small ones, (Y/n)-chan, or else you’ll make everyone jealous.” He groans as I sink my teeth into the base of his neck. “Or… ummmf” he fights the sheets to forcefully grab my back._

_“…if they see, they see. No mind. Bite until I bleed.”_

* * *

  
“Kuro-chan…” I murmur, turning onto my side and squishing my head into my arm. Itchy, I fidget and scratch my arm.

 _Wet? What’s wet?_ I open my eyes to see blood, now smeared all over my skin. I touched my lip and winced. Great. More blood dribbles onto my chin as I sit up.

 _Why?_ I tongue the puff of irritated skin, swirling around the bump methodically despite the pain, causing my eyes tear up involuntarily. I sink my teeth into the skin of my thumb, hoping my brain will only have physical pain to focus on.

“Pathetic.” I mumble to myself.

Cool air enters my room as I open my bedroom window, and I sit on the floor in front of my desk. I open my computer to check out my lips in the webcam, as my phone’s camera is broken. It’s not too bad. Won’t be noticeable by tomorrow. I pulled out my phone to text Kenma.

Are you awake?

It’s late, like 2:00a.m. or so. Generally, I expect Kenma to respond quickly.

Kenma: Yeah.

Can you tell me something bad about Kuro?

Kenma: Why?

Because.

Kenma: I don’t really have anything.

Think. Please.

Kenma:Are you having the dreams again?

Yeah. But they’re not just about Iachima now.

Kenma: Yeah?

They’re memories, detail-for-detail.

Kenma: Well…Kuro and Yaku got in a fight.

Why?

Kenma: Yaku said you affected Kuro’s playing.

I don’t blame him for thinking so.

Kenma: He’s right.

You think so?

Kenma: Not in the way he meant it.

He’s weak. That’s one. More?

Kenma: That doesn’t give you a bad image of him in his head, though.

Hmm. Kenma?

Kenma: Yeah?

Do you think I made a mistake?

Kenma: I don’t know.

How is he?

Kenma: I think that’s something you should ask him yourself.

My phone still in hand and elbows low, I lay my head down. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. I squeeze my phone. Though Kuro is technically the source of my anger, he’s not the reason why I’m angry with myself. All I want is that little /buzz/ and for his name to pop up on my phone. Unable to fight my impatience, my thumb hovers over his name in my contact list. Courtesy texts about our belongings cover up our previous conversations.

Kuro?

It is the simplest way I can think to get him to respond. One text, simple, easy enough to ignore but easy enough to bite. If he refuses to respond, there can be no embarrassment. I drop my phone next to me computer, and the table reverberates. As Karasuno hasn’t given me any study material yet, I start studying English where we last left off in class.  
_Buzz_. I smile and put my pen in between my teeth.

Kuro: (Y/n).

What are you doing right now?

Kuro: Well, I was just enjoying staring at nothing. I can’t sleep.

Ah

Kuro: You?

Can’t either, so I’m doing homework.

Kuro: Of course you are lol

Hey, it’s the best bet I have to fall asleep.

Kuro: We both know the only reason you’d be doing homework this late, would be because you can’t  
get something off your mind.

Well…

Kuro: May I dare ask what it is?

I tap my pen on my notebook.

It’s simple, really.

Kuro: Oh?

I miss you.

It takes me a moment to send. I had slowly typed it out, character by character, my fingers weighed down with hesitance. What’s the worst outcome? Minutes went by, whereas the texts before were seconds apart.

Ok. No response. No response is worse than any other outcome. I shouldn’t have said anything—

 _Buzz_.

Kuro: I miss you too.

Why?

Kuro: I’d guess it’d be the same reason as you

Oh..

Kuro: See you later, (Y/n).

I stare the screen, my eyes in pain. Either my eyes are still not quite adjusted, or my tears are causing the irritation. Talking with him hurts. It hurts so bad because he is so far away. Yet, this small feeling of satisfaction is enough to spark a smile. Albeit small and hesitant, Kuro has managed to make me smile once more.


	4. Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured out the spacing & italics! It shouldn't be as annoying to read now~

Suga's P.O.V.

"We have a new student from Tokyo. I would like you to show her around the school." Vice Principal Yasumichi gestures at a girl on his left. The girl briefly flinches as he moves, as he exposes her to the sun that is flooding the hallway. 

“Right. I’m Sugawara Koushi,” Shifting my gaze from Yasumichi-san, I present myself to the new student.

“Takatsu (Y/n).”

With wide eyes and rosy skin, a beautiful girl stands before me. Her cheeks are brushed roughly with acne patches and beginner’s scars. Her eyes are blushed pink, which compliments her dark auburn eyes, and helps draw attention away from the acne. She has long, wavy black hair that falls just past her chest, under toned by red layers. The hair appears to be new and not properly done; she must have missed a few bits while dying it as there are a few random blonde sections. Yet, despite the unevenness, the colors compliment her skin. Two bobby pins tuck away flyaways, saving her eyes from her hair. Her ears are double pierced with metal hooks, and a stud in her nostril. She definitely looks Tokyo.

“Sug…uh, Sugawara-san?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Are you going to show me around the school?” My eyes zoom out of focus as she tilts her head. 

“Y-yes, follow me,” I stutter, my cheeks flushed. “So... Tokyo?”

"Yeah." 

“What school?”

“Nekoma.”

“Really? Do you know anyone on their volleyball team?”

“Huh? Why do you ask?”

“I’m on Karasuno’s,” I twist to display my volleyball team jacket.

“Oh,” She smiles. “Yes, my friend is on the team.”

“Do you like volleyball, then?”

“I do. I used to play, but now I just enjoy watching.”

“Why don’t you play?”

“I was injured on court and missed a season. I was terrified of the bench, so I quit."

“If it’s your passion, then it’s worth being on a team, even if you don’t get to play each game.”

“Maybe after high school.” Playing with her hands, she looks outside. Her eyes squint as she seemingly forgot about the sun again.

“I understand how you feel, Takatsu-san.”

“(Y/n) is fine." She corrects me. "And how's that?”

“Oh—yes. (Y/n). I've been replaced as a starter because my skill level isn't high enough, but even though I'm on the sidelines most of the time, I still enjoy playing with my teammates."

“Are you good?”

“The team?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we definitely put up a fight. I think this will be an interesting year.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“We?”

“I intend on coming.”

“You do?”

“What else am I supposed to do here? And who knows? Maybe you’ll be good enough to get to nationals. Then you can lose to Nekoma.” She winks, pulling her smile to the side.

“If we make it there, Nekoma doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Oh, is that so?” 

We stop by my class. “Did Yasumichi-san tell you which class you will be in?”

“Uhm, no. He did not, but I was in Class 4 at Nekoma.”

“Let's head on back, then. Hopefully, we’re in the same.” 

***

“Daichi,” I elbow him as (Y/n) enters the classroom.

“What?” He responds.

“That’s her.” I whisper.

“The new—?”

He is interrupted by the teacher introducing (Y/n) to the glass. For a second, we meet eyes, but she blushes and looks away. She must be blushing because this is so new to her; she does not know anyone. Having so many eyes on you at once can be intimidating. 

“She sure stands out.” Daichi glances at me. “I mean…that hair, that lipstick. Is she even allowed to have hair like that?”

“I’m not sure. It looks natural, almost.”

“There’s red in her hair, though.”

“Red’s allowed. I had a girl in one of my classes last year with red hair.” I pause. “Maybe she has it that way so she could fit in or separate herself from the other girls in Tokyo.”

“Do girls look like that at Nekoma?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. But Tokyo’s all about fashion…I think.”

“Either way, she’s cute.”

“You think so?” I look at him.

“Yeah, do you not?”

“Well...” I pause. That brief image of her blushing when she met my eyes for the second time is sticking in my brain. Her redness must only be due to embarrassment, but even then--to be the receiver of such a pretty face… 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” I reply.

Your P.O.V --

“Class meet your new peer. Takatsu (y/n).”

I give a short bow. My eyes scan the room and land on Sugawara. With a face as kind as his, it's hard not to smile. 

“Takatsu-kun, you can sit over there,” the teacher motions to a seat near the window that is about center of the class. “Today, we will recap last night’s assignment and then have study hall. Will someone please give Takatsu-kun notes from the session?”

The desk next to mine belongs to a boy with wide shoulders and long hair tied into a bun. On his chair is the same jacket that Suga is wearing. From his bag, he offers me some loose-leaf notes. 

“Thank you,” I set the notes to the side of my desk. “What’s your name?”

“Azamane Asahi, but call me Asahi.”

“Asahi. You’re a part of the volleyball team?” I point to his jacket.

“Yeah. So is Daichi,” he points at a dark-haired guy sitting next to Sugawara. “...and Suga, the one with the gray hair.”

“Asahi--,” Sugawara says, coming over.

“Yes?”

“(Y/n) transferred from Nekoma—” Sugawara exclaims. 

“Nekoma?” Daichi comes over as well. “How did you like it there?”

“Uhm, it was alright. I can only expect so much from school.” I say.

“She’s friends with their volleyball team.” Sugawara bumps Daichi.

“Well, friends with two, kind of. But I’m familiar with everyone.”

“Who’s the other? You just mentioned one earlier.” Sugawara says. 

“Oh, well,” I start to blush, not sure on how to respond to that. _Why am I embarrassed? It doesn’t matter._ “I... uh, one is still my friend. The other, I’m not sure.”

“How come?” Sugawara asks. 

“The other I dated. For, almost two years, actually.”

Sugawara’s relaxed eyes stretch wide.

Asahi turn from Sugawara to me, a worried look on his face. “What happened?”

“Let’s slow it down, guys.” Daichi slaps his hand on Asahi’s back. His words were serious, near commanding, but he looks curious as well.

“It’s fine.” I look around the room, trying to determine the best way to phrase my thoughts; giving too much information would make things awkward. “He was having difficulty maintaining the pressure of being a good captain. Outside of volleyball, everything else important sort of started to…disintegrate.”

“So, it was Kuroo you were dating, then?” Daichi asks.

“Yup.” 

“Why don’t you come to our practice after school?” 

“Uh, sure. Kenma said your chibi-chan was going to introduce me, anyway.” Noticing Daichi laughing, I hurriedly follow up by asking what his actual name is.

“It’s Hinata. He gets along with everyone.”

“What had you thought when you saw us play?” Sugawara asks.

“Oh. All I really remember was chibi-chan—sorry, Hinata—and your libero. Nekoma’s a frustrating team to play, but the game lasted a while so I’d venture to say you did well.”

“We’re still getting the hang of things.” Daichi explains.

“Well, I’m excited for when you guys play next. I’ll be rooting for you, so you’d better win.” I grin, hoping they understand I am joking.

“We will, don’t worry.” Sugawara crosses his arms. “Just for you, of course.”

Reminiscing about all the times Kuro used me as his inspiration, I giggle. I guess it's time for me to be someone else's good luck charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: Chapters will be shorter and may be sporadic (though I am aiming to post weekly). Classes are starting, and I’m already breaking as it is. As a result, the content may get darker. Yet, Suga (!), the human ray of sunshine, has entered so perhaps my story won't get too dark.


	5. The Need for a New Pilot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have written this one more so in my voice. Normally I try not to, but I got super excited about an upcoming chapter that I couldn't help but let my fingers warm up. Enjoy Mr. Sunshine and anxiety~

Suga's P.O.V.:

“Sugawara-kun!”

(Y/n) rushes across the hallway towards me.

“I hate to ask, but could you show me some of your notes as well? I have Asahi’s, but I’m a bit…tedious with mine. Since I’m behind, I want to cross-compare what you both have in case I’m missing something.”

“Definitely.” I guide her to the edge of the hallway, placing my notes in her shaking hands. She seems near obsessive about the schoolwork; that, or maybe she is trying direct her focus onto something to keep her thoughts preoccupied. I have no idea what kind of anxiety accompanies moving your whole life.

“Oh, I’d rather you take pictures of them if that’s okay. That way you still have yours.” She gives the notes back but leaves her hand out, seemingly expecting me to give her my phone.

“Okay, I’ll send them to you later, then.” There is no reason for her to not use her phone to take pictures of them now, and so I hide my smile, thinking about the possibility of her maybe just wanting my number. 

“Thank you, Sugawara-kun.” Adding herself to my contact list, she cutely puts an exclamation point at the end of her first name. 

“You can, uhm, just call me Suga...if you want.”

“Sure. I’ll see you later, Suga.”

As she leaves, her hair dancing behind her, Daichi approaches me.

“Did she just give you her number?”

“She did.” I look down at her contact, _(Y/n)!_

“Why?”

“She wants to compare mine and Asahi’s notes to get a feel for the class.” I explain.

“Suga, leave some girls for others.” Daichi starts to walk away. I hurry up to him.

“What--who finds me cute?!” I don’t pay attention to most girls that way, but the fact that Daichi is implying (Y/n) may like me makes my stomach uneasy. “I’m sure if you ask, she’ll give her number to you, too.”

“You’d be okay with that? You seem to like her.” He pauses his step, his voice wary.

“Oh. Well, she’s nice, but that doesn’t mean--” Doesn’t mean what? Doesn’t mean I don’t like her? Or that he can’t like her if he wants?

“Okay, then.” He replies.

We continue our way past groups of people talking, our conversation now silent. Previously feeling butterflies, I now feel empty. Two things are running in my mind: the first is that I’m simply fine if he likes her because I want him to be happy; the second is that our feelings for each other have been paused for a while now, and that’s difficult, too. What would happen if (Y/n) likes one of us? What would come of it?

***

Your P.O.V.:

Though Kenma had advised Hinata to introduce me to everyone, and despite having talked with the third years in class about attending their practice, I left after the last bell.

Why? I’m not sure. Everyone seems nice. However, it the “seems” that trips me. I am stuck between wanting to befriend people and between covering up my life, because as soon as I become friends with some Karasuno kids, then the sooner I forget my days at Nekoma. What sucks is this whole time I have been wanting to forget, too; the reality is just scary. Everything was golden just a few months ago. I was happy. Now, I am doing my best to crumble. The obvious solution is to make friends. I just wish my gut weren’t so against that. 

I wonder how Kuro is doing. He is probably practicing right now, his only focus on the ball in front of him. I am not on his mind. At most, I’m a face in a crowd with no emotional tie; no one that deserves any attention. While thinking of all this, I receive a troubling message from Kenma.

  
I need to tell you something.

  
“I need to tell you something.” Kenma has enough social skill to recognize the stress that results from a message like that. Today…today has been a great day. So, let’s think positively: maybe something happened to him at school, like something new or exciting. Let’s leave it at that.

Oh?

You can’t tell Kuro.

Why?

Promise me.

Sure, Kenma.

I think I know what happened to your brother.

The concept is so absurd that I laugh. I laugh so hard that I slam the back of my fist into the wall, feeling the reverberation of the thin wall. It travels from my hand, up my arm, until I feel dizzy in my head. I’m sitting straight up in my bed, back against the wall, but it feels like my bed has dropped underneath me and I’m about to topple out of it. The edges of my eyesight start to get fuzzy. This isn’t...no this isn’t dizziness; is this what vertigo feels like? No, maybe it is...maybe it’s something else. My fingers tremble as I text him back.  
  
  


What?

You were right to have doubts…

What?

(Y/n). Be calm and just listen to what I have to say.

But...  
What could Kuro possibly have to do with this?

He’s got himself in trouble, too.

My throat tenses as I swallow. My chest feels now like compressed metal; so tight that it is hard to breathe. And unexpectedly, this overwhelming anger replaces the worry.   
  


Kenma--what are you doing? You’re not making any sense. 

I’m telling you; you were right to have doubts.

What does that even mean?

It means that Iachima’s death wasn’t an accident, and I think that Kuro may get himself caught in one.

How?

There’s this girl cooing over him...she’s annoying, but she makes me uneasy. She knows so much about Kuro, and even brought up you and Iachima.   
(Y/n), she must be involved. She knows things that weren’t released. And the way she hangs over Kuro...it almost seems more threatening than cute.

Wouldn’t Kuro tell her to back off then?

He has.

And?

Aiko’s persistent. Besides, pretty girl with a sweet voice all over him? I think it’s all going over his head.

Aiko...why does that name sound familiar?

She’s some girl in my class. That’s all I know about her.

Holding tightly to the edge of the bed, I reach out for my backpack and pencil case. I pull up my messages from Kuro and shoot him a text--just a “hey.” I will not tell him anything as Kenma asked, but I want to do some probing myself. Rummaging through my bag, I pull out my sketchbook and unsteadily start jotting down notes. 

Basics-- 

  * Iachima’s last message to me was “leaving town, will be back tomorrow.”
  * Bag packed with misc items
  * No explanation. 
  * Small funeral--peers and some family. 
  * One eulogy recorded--by me. 
  * Arguments about cause of death
  * Injuries reported: head wound, glass cuts and shards in body, bite marks.



I stop noting as my phone buzzes—Kuro.

  
Who is this?

Excuse me?

Other responses: A) “Haha.” B) “New number, who’s this?” C) “This isn’t Kenma?” Yet, my fingers typed out the most hostile response before I could take the chance to think.

Answer my question.

Are you fucking with me Kuro?

RE: Other, appropriate responses: A) “Haha.” B) “New number, who’s this?” C) “This isn’t Kenma?”

Tetsu-senpai’s busy. 

Who is this?

His gf.

I’m sure.

Do you have anything to say to him?

I pause. Do I? Kenma said not to say anything to him; I intend to keep that promise. Really, all I want is to hear from him.

  
Sure. Tell him to call me since you’re acting like his messenger.

RE: Other appropriate responses: A) “Sure, tell him to call me.” B) “Just wondering if he had something of mine.” C) “Accidental text, just playing around.” 

  
And this is…

(Y/n)?

Yes, Miss Deku~.  
I’m blocking your #.

Pissed off, I immediately text Kenma.

WHAT A BITCH

What??

Are they dating now or something??

Not that I know of. Did you text him?  
You promised you wouldn’t say anything.

I wasn’t planning on it. I was just going to check in on him.

What happened?

The girl refused to let me speak with him and blocked my #.

Oh...  
Honestly, (y/n) …I’d leave it alone.

Why?

It’s not like you can be with him anymore. What’s the point?

Friendship?

That wasn’t going to work in the first place.

Despite everything that just transpired, my heart is sinking in a different way. It is not from anger, nor anxiety. I feel—I feel let down. Who was I kidding? Really, I wasn’t sure if it would work in the first place. But I thought that with time, we could be friends again—or something to that effect. Guess we were that transparent. I slap my open sketchbook against my forehead, inevitably smudging the graphite. Everything inside me is willing me to tear it up--this rushed list is but one of many things in this book that I can no longer stand. 


	6. Bunny Cries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fear my story may be plateauing. Drama is to come, and the story line is drafted. However, I also write for my readers. If anyone has suggestions, feel free to comment ~  
> If there is a request for an AU or a one-shot, I'll write it for you on Wattpad or Tumblr ~

Kuroo’s P.O.V. --

“So, what did you do yesterday?” Aiko asks.

She swings her feet, Mary Janes securely wrapped around her feet. A glass bottle of noir coffee rests in her hands. Pictures of camellias and cherry blossoms run across the container. Though a pretty depiction, the disparity throws off the full potential of the flowers’ beauty. The lid's edge is stained, seemingly from her red lipstick.

“Volleyball.” I respond.

“Do you have practice again today?”

“Mhm.” I take a bit of rice from my bento box. “Always do.”

“Do you mind if I watch?”

“Why would you?” 

“I don’t have anyone to spend time with…” She looks at the ground and does that pouty face that she did yesterday. Her legs stop swinging.

This again?

“It’s practice. I won’t be able to talk.”

“What about after?”

“Home.” I set my lunch down on my lap and give her a slanted look. “You’re not wanting to stay the whole time, are you?”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been practicing extra. It’ll end late, and a girl like you shouldn’t be out that late.”

“Then you can walk me home.”

“But—”

“Please?”

“We’ll see.”

“Yeah, but if I stay late, you’re not going to make me walk home when it’s all scary and dark, right? You said so yourself, I shouldn’t be out that late—”

“Just don’t stay late then.”

“But I want to!”

God, she is impossible.

“I—ok. If you stay the whole time—which you shouldn’t—but if you do, then I’ll walk you home. Deal?”

“Deal.” She grins.

***

Kenma’s P.O.V. –

Aiko’s on the side of the gym, right near where (Y/n) would rest. In her hands lays a phone instead of a notebook, and rather than concentrating on schoolwork, she has this unwavering stare at Kuro.

“Kuro, why is Aiko here?”

He wipes the sweat off his forehead with his towel, an annoyed look on his face.

“She insisted on coming.”

“Why?”

“She’s obsessed with me. Why else?” Kuro throws his head back sighing. He twists his head slightly to try and conceal a small smile curling on the side of his mouth.

“You’re not annoyed by it, are you?”

“What?” He wrinkles his eyebrows. “Do you think I’m okay with it?”

“Tch—” I change my step, swinging my hips to start going in the other direction.

“Huh?”

I leave the conversation at the sound of Lev groaning at Yaku. He is rubbing his red, tender arms, while Yaku does his best at scolding him. 

Kuro acts blasé towards Aiko attending our practice, dismissing her like a fly on the wall. But if he really did not want her here, he would have made it clear from the beginning; and even then, if she appeared anyway, he would have asked her to leave. He dislikes when people ignore him. Aiko’s over there, staring him down with a goofy love-struck smile on her face. If Kuro is not careful, she will wiggle her way into his life.

And will he be careful? Maybe at first, but he will succumb—she’s a cutesy girl with eyes only for him.

“Ow!!!” A distressed voice echoes in the gym.

I turn around to see Aiko touching her forehead and whining loudly. I hear the distant tapping of the volleyball, and Kuro running up to her. With a roll of my eyes, I run over.

Though her eyes lacked the redness that accompanies tears, a few stream down her face anyway, and she wipes the corners of her eyes. Is she seriously hurt? What a crybaby.

Kuro kneels beside her, his level of closeness unwarranted. I guess if she were hit by a spike then she could be hurt, but it would have had to have been a rebound. Besides, we have been practicing receives from blocks.

Though I would rather die than voluntarily humor Aiko, I assert my annoyance by getting even closer to her than Kuro, pushing him to the side. As he has perfect balance, Kuro does not topple. However, my intervention definitely surprises him.

Her face contorts, and her large eyes narrow. She sniffles to a stop, concluding her fake cry.

“Oh. Kenma.”

“Aiko, are you ok?” I try my best to reflect a sense of worry.

She pokes her head around me to see if Kuro is watching. She nods.

“I’m better—”

“Are you sure you don’t need to go to the infirmary? Or go home? Maybe coach can take a look at you.” I push, playing her little game.

“But—” She starts to whine again.

“We’re at practice.”

“Kenma’s right. Go to the infirmary or something if it hurts that bad.” Kuro redirects his gaze from Aiko to me.

As Kuro agrees with me, she proceeds to stutter, presumably upset that there are now two people wishing she leave.

***

Behind a thin veil of clouds, the moon gives additional light to the fading sunlight, illuminating the walk home. Goosebumps pattern my arm as the air has become chilly. Aiko packs along, having proceeded to stay until after practice, never once emitting a yawn. Unsurprisingly, she felt well enough to skip a trip to the infirmary. She even declined coach when he offered to look at her. He did not seem enthused that she was there. Initially it was the same with (y/n) showing, but since she was Kuro’s girlfriend, he allowed it. I guess he may suspect the same thing now.

There is not as much pep in her step as there was previously, but she still has that sing-song voice. As much as I have tried to block her from walking next to Kuro, it is pointless; she just goes around me to walk beside him. The most I can offer is to keep talking with him.

How exhausting.

As we near home, Aiko asks Kuro if he can walk her home.

“It’s really dark. I’d like it if I didn’t have to walk alone.” She scuttles her foot against the ground, pushing away the smallest of pebbles.

“Where do you live?” I ask.

“Kuro, will you walk me home?” She ignores me.

“Sure…okay.” Kuro says groaning. It is late—there is no way he will make her walk home by herself, but I can tell he is annoyed at the obligation.

We turn around and head the literal other direction. Why wouldn’t she have asked sooner? Kuro and I live near each other.

“Oh, Kenma—I only need one person to walk with me. You don’t need to come as well.”

I walk past her. I am not letting her walk with just Kuro. I hear her little sigh.

“Really, I’d like to just spend time with Kuro—”

“That’s fine.” I continue walking and throw her a smile over my shoulder. “Pretend I’m not here.”

“But—”

“Why does it matter?” Kuro asks Aiko.

“I—” She huffs. “It doesn’t. I’m _so_ glad to have both of you here.”

***

~ The following morning before class ~

“So, Aiko, how’d you get ahold of Kuro’s phone?”

“What?”

“How did you get ahold of Kuro’s phone?” I repeat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So, Kuro blocked (Y/n) himself?”

“I did him a favor. He needs to get over her.”

“Y’know, Aiko. The only thing cute about you, is that you think you’re the answer.” I pass her to get to my seat. “Oh—he’s still in love with her, in case you were wondering.”

This time, she does not respond. She merely glares at me, her hand tightening into a fist around her pencil. Her hate for me is amusing. I never knew it could be this much fun irritating someone other than Lev, but hopefully she stops harassing Kuro. I cannot stand the idea of having to have more interactions with her. Now, I just need to convince Kuro to shove her off himself—for real.


	7. Noodling Yourself into His Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’ve dreamed the next two chapters, I’m tired as hell. Cheers to life ~
> 
> Have some fluff with Mr. Sunshine (Pt. 1) ~

[Context: This stream is following where we left off at the end of Chapter 5. The ending of chapter 5 included Kenma texting you that a friendship with Kuroo is not plausible. Kenma’s stressed from your lack of response.]

Your P.O.V.:

_Kenma: (Y/n)?_

I drop my phone in my bag. No part of me wants to reply to that message. I don’t even know what to say, honestly. All I know is that if we do get on the subject of my friendship with Kuro again, I will lose all focus. I can’t have that--not at school.

“(Y/n), you’re coming to practice today, right?” Speaking to me across the desks, Suga shrugs his backpack off his shoulder. 

“Y-yes. That’s fine.” I stutter, knowing that I hadn’t settled on going.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll have intervals to meet everyone, and Kiyoko can keep you company.” 

“Okay. I’ll stay for a little bit, then.”

“Or...you could stay the _whole_ time.” His eyes flash humorously.

“What if I get bored?”

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

***

Practice was enjoyable. The other third-years all made an even effort to talk to me every now and then. Kiyoko had mostly, as she was not actively on the court like the rest. She’s sweet--sweeter than I thought, and I’m surprised that she sparked me to feel some jealousy. Envy, however, can still lead to friendship, or at least to us being solid acquaintances. 

“Will you be here again tomorrow?” Kiyoko asks me.

“I’ll see where I’m at with my homework.” I reply. 

Suga jogs up to me, his forehead sweaty and arms red. 

“If you don’t mind waiting a moment, I can walk you home.”

“Sure. I’m not familiar with this area yet, but I don’t live too far.” It is late. The sun hasn’t quite started to set yet, so we’re left with that golden area of sun to stay for a while.

“Perfect. Let me get changed, and I’ll meet you outside the gym.”

“Take your time. I think I left something at my desk, so I’ll need to run really quick.”

All my belongings are in my bag; I didn’t leave anything. However, there is this incessant energy running up and down my calves. I think it may be because I stood around for a couple hours, or maybe my nerves. I haven’t spent any one-on-one time with a classmate here. Spending so much time talking with Kiyoko in a _public_ place was surprisingly taxing. Everything is just so new, it’s hard to take it all in. In any case, Suga seems like he wants to walk me home; I’m not familiar with the area. Win-win.

*******

Suga’s P.O.V.:

While (Y/n) rushes to class, I change my shirt and shoes and gather our stuff so that Daichi can lock the gym. She left her bag at the front door. Grabbing it for her, her phone falls out. She has this cute screensaver of a baby Naruto covered in ramen. I wonder if she likes any manga. A flashing message shadows Naruto. 

_I just don’t want you to get hurt more._

As (Y/n) comes into view, I flag her down. “Hey, (y/n). You got a message.”

“Oh,” she sighs as she opens her phone.

“What’s wrong?” I say, leaning my head to look at the message again.

“It’s just…” she stops, seemingly unsure of what to say next. “I ran into some issues last night.”

“What kind of issues?”

“Kenma told me some…things about my brother and Kuro.” She brushes her hair past her ear. “I texted Kuro, but his new girlfriend blocked my number. I told Kenma about it and he told me to stop trying to be friends.” “New girlfriend,” was said not with malice but with confusion. Didn’t they just break up? I don’t remember if she explicitly said when.

“Is that what you want to do?”

“I…” she shakes her head. “Kenma’s just looking out for me.”

“Do you want to cut off ties with Kuroo?” I press, looking for a solid answer.

“I guess if I have to, I will... It’s just that I’ll only have Kenma, then.”

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“It gets lonely.”

“I understand.”

“But...I like you as well. I think you’d be a good friend.”

My face hot, I involuntarily smile really wide. “Friend” --that word breaks hearts, but being friends just means I can be closer to (Y/n).

“Would you like a distraction?” I suggest.

“A distraction?”

“There’s a route near my house that’s really beautiful. I used to follow it when I walked home until I started at Karasuno. I’ll show it to you. We can get mochi, too.”

“Mochi?” The glossy look in her eyes fades and is replaced by near-childlike excitement. “Yes--let’s do that.”

***

“It’s even prettier in the fall,” I say.

Wind tousles the zelkova leaves, making them look like water disturbed by rain. Her beanie protects her hair from the wind; just the tips blow past her shoulders. Mine succumb to the air, undoubtedly a mess, and sure as day, she comments.

“Your hair looks so funny!”

“Is that so?”

She does her best to adjust my hair, one hand clinging tight to her mochi ice cream. At first, she tries to just brush it down, but as that proves unsuccessful, she searches for my hair line to see the literal root of the problem. I smile as I look down at her eyes concentrating so hard.

“Keep trying, but I don’t think it’ll settle. I’ll have to deal with it being messy.”

“No, I’ve got it.” She moves me under a tree by my elbow so that we’re shielded from the wind. She removes her own beanie—colored wool with pink, blue, and purple alternating in a circular pattern, so that the blue started at the top and ended once more on the rim. Adjusting its placement, she brushes my hair so that it peeks out like it would normally.

“What about yours?” I ask.

Handing me her mochi, she stretches out a hair-tie with her fingers, like that of a hand puppeteer, and ties her hair into a low ponytail that drapes over her shoulder.

“There, that’s better.” she states. “Let’s go!”

She moves onto the path once again. It takes a moment for me to register what just happened; it feels like there is a delay between my brain and my muscles.

“Suga-kuuun,” she whines.

“Uh, yeah.” I hurry to her side once more. “Suga’s just fine, by the way.”

“Ah, Suuuuga.” She said slowly.

“Like emphasizing my name?”

“Yes.” She laughs. “So, you said this is where you walked before you headed to high school? Was it the path to your middle school?”

“It is, yes. Which have you liked better, middle or high?”

“Ah, I’d have to say high. So far, anyway.”

“Why, are you scared?” I tease; but as soon as I said so, her face drops. Is she really scared?

“Earlier…Kenma sent me some texts that made me uneasy.”

“Why’s that?”

“Don’t make fun of me, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I think they lied.”

“Who?”

“The mortician; his death was staged.”

“Staged? Why do you think that?”

“There was this girl who had a crush on Kuro while we were dating…”

“Okay…” I say, encouraging her to continue.

“She told Kuro that my brother’s death may not have happened if it weren’t for me.”

“What?”

“Iachima had gouge marks all over his body, with glasses in places that couldn’t have been from the windshield. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about ghouls in some prefectures, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

“The thought crossed my mind multiple times, but Kenma and Kuro told me to not dig too deep.” She breathes in. “But with _her_ implying Iachima was in the way of things…just makes me wonder.”

“Say it were ghouls,” I think aloud, “and his death was wrongful, how would you proceed?”

“I don’t know…”

“I think Kenma wanted to calm you originally. Maybe he said something to you now because he’s putting the dots together.”

“The dots?”

“If your brother—Iachima, yes?” she nods. “If she were involved in Iachima’s death, then it’s possible she may work to cut out other people in Kuro’s life.”

“You’re right…” she says, her voice light.

“However, what you can or can’t do is limited. Daichi said something to me that we’ll be playing Nekoma again soon. If she’s there, maybe you can find out some more information. That’s if you want. If she is a ghoul, well…”

“There could be trouble.” She nods. “I’ll take notes on it later, in the meantime let’s talk about something else. Also, this is between us. Okay?”

“Of course.” I confirm. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Hmmm. What’s on your mind? Aside from all this, of course.”

“Oh, well...” I place my hand on my chin.

“Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?” I turn to see her looking straight at me.

“What do you want to know?”

“Something like your favorite food, or weird dreams, or what you want to do after high school. Things like that.”

“Well, I like mapo tofu—the spicy kind. I don’t have a grasp 100% on what I want to do after high school, but I like helping people, so maybe something with that.” Pushing my hands into my hoodie pockets, I sigh. “As far as dreams…I keep notes. I rarely remember them.”

“Ooo, a dream journal?” She says, curious. “What kind of dreams?”

“How about I show you sometime instead? Easier to read than remember.” I suggest. “And you? Food, after-school plans, dreams?”

“Ah. Ramen’s my favorite. I want to do something with informing, a newscaster or journalist. For dreams…they’re not really dreams. Just memories...and sometimes, I’ll have the occasional nightmare.” 

“What kind of memories?”

“They vary.”

“Ok, what was your last dream?” I probe.

“Oh…I, uh, I don’t remember.”

“Well next time you have one, I’d love to hear.” I look at my phone. “It’s getting late though; I should probably walk you home.”

“There’s no need.” She waives her hand in dismissal.

“Don't be silly, you'll get yourself lost.” 

"I...you don't know any better than I do!" 

"I know this area inside-out. I'll get you there easy." Flustered, she stands still until I give her a small bump on the shoulder with mine. "C'mon, (Y/n)."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bottom Note: I’ve got some good smut coming--not to set any high expectations. I just need to appropriately place it. Keep tuned ~  
> Also -- Don't make fun of me for the title; a name is eluding me. Let's be kind to the meme. :)


	8. - update -

This has been incredibly fun to write, and I have enjoyed sharing it with others.

I'm not sure what this feeling is. I argue it may be a sense of anger, confusion, and sadness. You may ask, "How is this related to Haikyuu?"

Let's just say this: I'm tired. 

Once I sort out this fuckery in my head, I will return.

loves.


	9. - update 2 -

Hello, hello ~

I'll resume posting in a couple weeks. Homework's a thing, and it's Halloween time bro. However! In favor of that, this upcoming chapter will be...well, let's remember that this is a Haikyuu x Tokyo Ghoul fanfic, and now that I've everything sorted in my head, it's time to release that fuckery on paper.

Hoping everyone stays safe from those Halloween gremlins and wears their masks. I know I'll be bloody-ing mine up.


End file.
